WE ARE FORTUNATE to have in our woods a therapist—a mental health professional—named Dr. Woodrow F. Stump. (The F. stands for Forest, of course). He is a slightly older gentleman, a century and more, to be sure. I’ve written of him fairly often in the past, but it’s been a while, what with Life getting in the way and whatnot.
SOMETIMES LOOKING AT A TREE… I know. I get it. These are awful times. Sometimes you feel as though the ground has nearly disappeared beneath your feet. As though you can no longer remember what ‘normal’ was. As though you might be the only person you personally know who’s still sane, who still cares about things we once thought we
SMALL, GOOD THINGS: For three of the past four weeks, I have been mostly in the wilds. In valleys and forests, beside lakeshores and under big trees. I’ve been guiding and facilitating, introducing folks to wildflowers and streams and songbirds. We’ve watched the evening sky-dance of the woodcock, heard the brilliant ‘drink-your-tea’ song of the towhee, observed echo-blue butterflies on
OUR VERY FIRST FOREST THERAPY RETREAT was an absolutely grand experience. Walking woodland trails lined with trillium and jack-in-the-pulpit. Soaking up the celestial music of the morning birdsong chorus. Practicing deep relaxation, stillness, and mindfulness; exploring the woods through sight, sound, smell, and touch. And exploring our own deeper sense of compassion and gratitude, for one another, for a beautiful
FRIENDS: THERE IS A DIFFICULT PATH before us at this time. And when one walks a hard path, there’s something important remember: to try to keep your balance. Rocks, roots, bogs, seeps, mud holes, drop-offs, steep climbs, deadfalls… anyone who’s traveled a wilderness trail has encountered them all. So, you take your time. You pause and rest when you need